Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Does a dog have true nature?























Freya and I live side by side, but hardly in the same world.


At night, she gets up from time to time, circles 2 3 4 5 times and flops
gently oozing her body up against mine. It must help with my snoring.
By morning, she has oozed me over the edge of the bed.
Sometimes I wake to her vivid dream
Dodging, twitching, yipping, leaping for that squirrel
That just escapes, again. 
What does the squirrel's tail
Look like or smell like to her in her dream?
What is the dog-version of squirrel's true being?



































I think her squirrel is not the same as mine:
   bushy russet tail sharp sharp glittering black eyes,
   claws, twitching nose, patient regard for us
   down here below, total ownership of telephone wires
   and walnut tree, absorption in taking a nut to pieces,
   oblivious to the magnificent soaring leap Freya has made,
   so acrobatic herself but no match for squirrel's speed and balance.


 


 I try to "see" squirrel from Freya's place. Just one piece of a
                                  Huge Puzzle.  
I can only see the way every hair in her is quivering, electrified.

And that she can Stop, totally Stop the World, body and mind
                  totally dropped away.

Waiting for that squirrel to Come Down into her
               Irresistable Force Field.

No matter how many times squirrel has shown it is
         Above and Beyond Her Reach.


What might Freya say if she had words?



We Dance together.
So great to have something small and furry 
and quick-moving to go for. 
Heart surges, gets huge in my chest. Every muscle waits. 
I know one of these time I'll get my mouth on it. Chomp! 
For this I was born, for this I came.
No life apart from now, now, now, the dance together.
Apart from that, boring boring boring.
Same food every day. Chairs are soft
and don't fit quite right.
Walks too short and too seldom, 
but
I take what I get and I don't get upset.


Squirrel and cat, moths, flies and bones, 
the dead fish and dead birds on the beach,
so delicious to roll in.
There is no other life.

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